hc that because Dick grew up an only child for literally the first 18 years of his life, he had no idea how to actually act around Jason.
of course, he loved the kid—he very much enjoyed the idea of having a younger brother, and Jason was an absolute delight. Dick tried his best to be around whenever possible, took him out on trips. but he treated Jason as a friend, more than anything, because that’s what he knew how to do. but Jason wasn’t his friend—he was his younger brother, a kid who looked up to him, eyes full of wonder, and would likely take things Dick did as an example.
the first time Jason did something Dick-like, Dick actually got a fright. what do you mean this impressionable younger sibling tries to be like his older one? he didn’t understand.
of course, many children wanted to be like Robin. Dick knew what it meant to be an example, because hell, he went out as one essentially nightly. but that was Robin, the Boy Wonder—the man Jason looked up to was Dick Grayson.
Dick knew how to be an example for kids as Robin. He wasn’t sure if he knew how to do that as just Dick.
he was good at being an older brother, but he didn’t know that. in his head, he didn’t know how to be a brother, not yet, let alone an older one.
he couldn’t exactly ask Bruce—no siblings in sight there, either, and they weren’t exactly on speaking terms, anyway. he had no frame of reference.
Dick didn’t want Jason to follow in his footsteps completely, didn’t want to set a negative example, but he didn’t want to act fake around the kid, either. he couldn’t be Robin, because as much as he loved it, that wasn’t him anymore, and Jason wasn’t expecting Dick to be that. it was an odd medium, so for a long time, he resorted to just idling. he kept Jason at a kind of arm’s length—treated him more as a friend as he figured out what it meant to be a brother.
he never actually figured it out, never changed anything consciously. he found that it happened on its own, before Dick could even begin to second guess it. it just happened.
being brothers with Jason meant banter. the quick, witty jokes that were a shared Robin trait, apparently, but more fond than snappy. it meant favours, a kind of half-hearted transaction every time Jason asked Dick to help him sneak out in return for the last yoghurt in the fridge. it meant arguing with Jason to high hell over the most stupid of reasons, but comforting him the moment a single tear fell. it meant having disagreements, not being able to look each other in the eye for a while, but always taking his side when it mattered. it meant giving Jason the smaller half of a snapped chocolate bar, but giving him the world when it came down to it. it meant laughing at Jason’s embarrassing moments, and grinning at his prideful ones. it meant taking him out for trips when the Manor got too quiet, and taking polaroids to hang on his wall. it meant giving Jason advice, not overthinking his every word and just wanting the best for the kid.
when Jason died, Dick wasn’t sure if he could ever act like that again. it felt like a skill he’d lost along with his brother.
so, the first time Tim came to Dick as a younger brother, instead of just the new Robin speaking to Nightwing—all sassy, witty remarks as he finally got comfortable, threatening to take the last can of soda, Dick mentally shut down. his response was almost autopilot, an equivalent of muscle memory from years ago—the matching banter left his lips as he joked that he’d hidden a stash of his own drinks somewhere in the manor (he hadn’t, but Jason always fell for that one) before he could stop it. it was the first time he’d slipped properly back into that role, one of a proper older brother, since Jason’s death—and it made him freeze up, momentarily. but the way Tim’s eyes sparkled and his laugh filled the kitchen had Dick’s heart squeezing in his chest, and a matching chuckle clawing its way out of his throat. the role fell over him like a familiar cloak, and he forgot how he had ever taken it off.
he bantered with Tim back and forth at the kitchen table, helped him with homework when he asked—and even when he didn’t, to Tim’s occasional annoyance. he bothered Tim when he was bored and got half-heartedly shoved away, but never actually pushed aside. he made sure Tim was okay even when their masked lives weren’t involved. he took multiple injuries in Tim’s place, but would regularly playfully tug his hair. he’d hide Tim’s biggest secrets from Bruce if asked, but still ratted him out for being reckless. he argued with Tim, but never let him be truly alone, always being just a phone call away.
his chest still constricted, sometimes, when Tim did something a bit too familiar, but each time, he responded just like he always would. because he was an older brother, and he knew what that meant, now.
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